May Bugs

I am generally quite a fan of bugs - I'm not in love with them (as the Boy Wonder seems to think) but I don't have a particular problem with them and I find quite a lot of them actively interesting. The only ones I actively dislike are Daddy Longlegses and that's because I'm always really scared that in the process of trying to catch them to release them into freedom I will trap one of their teeny weeny legs and pull it off, or otherwise damage their ridiculously fragile little bodies. My favourite kind of bug was, until today, the caterpillar, and although physically it still is, name-wise it has been overshadowed by the fact that I discovered today that another name for the may bugs is a cockchafer. There is no amount of maturity that will make that cease to be funny to me, and quite frankly if there was I would hope not to reach it - life's too short not to be entertained by the word cockchafer.

The downside of being delicious

Louisiana rocks, and we're having a blast here at Jazz fest and seeing more awesome bands in the evenings. The only downside is that I am so delicious -all day, and apparently all night too, I am being bitten to buggery, although inexplicably my right side is way more popular than my left, to the point where I now have about 50 bites down my right arm and another 10 or so on the right side of my back, whereas my left hand side has only been munched about 10-15 times in total. There seems to have been a bug dinner party on my forehead last night as I have four bites very close together which have taken the form of a long blister which looks absolutely revolting.

We have bought bug spray, but reading the warnings on the back has been enough to put me off using it thus far, including the opening line which is 'It is a violation of federal law to use this product in a manner which is not consistent with its labelling' before a long list of ways to use the spray which might kill or maim you, including information on how to contact Poison Control Centres if need be.

The upside of this is that I went to see a pharmacist at the local Walgreens who looked about 15, chewed gum loudly whilst looking with vagues distaste at my blistered arm, and recommended peroxide and Neosporin. We duly purchased both and came home for a mammoth bite treatment session which was strangely romantic, but during which we discovered that peroxide actually does bleach your skin so for quite a while I had reverse leopard-style spots around every bite which made me look like some weird Michael Jackon uber fan before it faded enough to leave the house for some more funk.

One of the reasons I find it particularly galling is that I am always nice to bugs - I never knowingly kill them, I try to save those that fall into my drinks, I actively discourage the Boy Wonder from hurting the ones that stray into our house, and yet he remains relatively unbitten whilst I am a red, blistered mess and have been munched in the most awkward places - elbows (meaning I can't lean properly on anything), shoulders (meaning putting a bra on is a particularly hazardous experience at the moment) and the backs of my hands and between my fingers meaning that I can't even wash and dry my hands without being reminded that I am a bulging, oozing blisterfest. Still, the Boy Wonder has been patrolling the house every night spraying every entry point with the terrifying chemical concoctions and (fingers crossed) the number of bites isn't actually increasing, so hopefully I will return to my non bitten state over the next week or so and survive this whole ordeal relatively unscathed.